A Kid for Two Farthings Read Online Free

he hurried on.
    The dog-sellers mostly stood in the gutter or against the bill-hoardings holding a puppy in each hand and one in each pocket. They didn’t say anything unless you patted a pup. Then they told you he was a pedigree Irish retrieving elkhound, his mother was a good house dog. A few of them had cages with bigger dogs in them, and one or two men just stood around with four or five dogs on leads, trying to make them stop walking round in circles and jumping at people. There were dogs with short legs and long tails, and dogs with short tails but long ears. They were all dogs all right, all yelping and barking, just dogs.
    Joe walked right to the end of the dog-end of the market, hurrying past the man who bit off exactly at the joint dogs’ tails that needed lopping, to the very last man standing by the arches under the railway. The four sixpences and four pennies in his pocket clinked and three men tried to sell him pedigreed pups, but the last man stood by the dark opening of the arches without speaking. He held a large white rabbit under one arm, and in the other hand a piece of tattered string, and at the end of the string, a small unicorn.
    While Joe looked at the unicorn, a little man with three pullovers on came up and took the white rabbit. He held it up by its ears, and it kicked its feet at him. Then he handed it back, saying, ‘Flemish?’
    ‘Dutch,’ the last man said.
    ‘Thought it was Flemish,’ the little man mumbled as he turned away.
    ‘Dutch,’ the man said again.
    ‘Funny thing,’ the little man mumbled, pulling his pullovers down, ‘funny thing.’
    People pushed past with bags of fruit and dogs and birds in cages, but none of them spoke to the man. Then a tall boy came up and stared at the white rabbit for a while.
    ‘How much?’ he asked.
    ‘Twelve and sixpence,’ the last man said. ‘It’s Dutch.’
    ‘Half a bar,’ the boy replied.
    ‘Done,’ said the last man and handed over the rabbit.
    The tall boy left, talking into the rabbit’s ear. The last man pulled at the string on the unicorn as Joe came up to pat its head. The unicorn licked Joe’s hand.
    ‘He’s a bit twisted,’ the man said to Joe, ‘but he’ll grow straight in time.’
    ‘He is a bit twisted,’ Joe replied, looking at the unicorn’s hind legs, ‘and one leg is shorter than the other at the back.’
    ‘He’s a runt all right,’ the man said. ‘Still.’
    ‘How much is he?’ Joe asked.
    ‘Only five shillings,’ the man said.
    ‘Give you two shillings,’ Joe said.
    ‘Come orf it,’ the man said.
    ‘He’s a bit twisted,’ Joe said.
    ‘What if he is a bit twisted?’ the man replied. ‘He’ll grow.’
    ‘Give you two and fourpence,’ Joe said.
    ‘Kids,’ the man said, ‘kids.’ He turned into the arches, the unicorn limping beside him, and Joe behind them both.
    Under the arches the air smelt of smoke and horses, and footsteps and voices echoed through the smell. In the corners old men with long beards and old women with feathers stuck in their hats, all wrapped up in rags, sat on sacks talking to themselves. As Joe passed, an old man took a long draught from a bottle, and coughed. At the other end of the arches the last man began to hurry, and the unicorn tripped and skipped after him.
    When Joe caught up with him the man stopped and the unicorn sat down.
    ‘You still ’ere?’ the man asked. ‘Kids.’
    ‘What will you do with him?’ Joe said.
    ‘Have him for dinner,’ the man said.
    ‘Oh,’ Joe gasped.
    ‘With a few onions,’ the man said.
    ‘How much is he?’ Joe asked.
    ‘How many more times?’ the man said. ‘Five shillings. He cost me that to raise.’
    ‘If you come back with me to Mr Kandinsky at Fashion Street,’ Joe said, ‘he’ll give you five shillings.’
    ‘All that way?’
    ‘And I’ll give you two and fourpence as well,’ Joe added.
    ‘Give me the two and fourpence, then,’ the man said, and Joe counted the coins into his hand.
    ‘I